


Something There

by makethestorylast



Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Bill is the real mvp here guys, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Real Relationship, also Emma has rights, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25253764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makethestorylast/pseuds/makethestorylast
Summary: There's something about faking a date that seems to always spark feelings. Paul just hates that it's happening to him.
Relationships: Bill/Paul Matthews
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	1. Left Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> CW // None

Paul did not like waiting.

Of all the ways to be publicly humiliated, waiting was the absolute worst. Alone at a table for two, vehemently insisting that the waitress wait just a few more minutes for his date to show up. She’ll be here soon, he thought. Traffic is bad. She doesn’t remember how to get here… 

A voice in the back of his mind reminded him, entirely unhelpfully, that she chose the restaurant because it was her favorite, so how could she possibly forget the way? But he brushed the thought aside. She would show up. She had to show up. She _promised._

So he buried his head back in the menu, ignoring the pitying stares from the happy couples around him and the increasingly frustrated waitstaff, constantly checking his table to see if maybe, just maybe, he’ll finally order.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone slide into the seat across from him. He lowered his menu and saw Bill smiling back at him.

“Sorry, babe, traffic was awful. Crash downtown, backed up all the way to 42nd. You wouldn’t _believe—_ ”

“Bill, what are you doing here?” Paul whispered furiously, glancing around. People had finally stopped staring (for the most part, anyway—Bill was getting a few angry glares, but Paul really couldn’t bring himself to care).

“Emma is here with her new girlfriend. She saw you sitting alone and called me to bail you out.” He reached out and took Paul’s hand. “It’s Clivesdale. No one knows us here except Emma, and she won’t tell anyone. But we gotta sell this, okay?”

“Okay,” Paul replied, squeezing Bill’s hand. “Okay.”

“Oh, wonderful!” The waitress had come back, her notepad open and pen poised to write. “Are you two ready to order, then?”

Paul opened his mouth, fully intending to ask for just a few more minutes—his ‘date’ had just arrived, after all—but Bill just nodded, pointing at the menu and ordering for them both. He returned the waitress’ smile and turned back to Paul, his face softening.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want.”

“No, it’s…” Paul glanced at their hands. Bill’s was warm, really warm, and he didn’t want to let go. Not yet. And besides, Bill was his date, right? Holding hands was the right thing to do. They had to sell it, that’s all. “This is fine. Better than being stood up.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

* * *

“We went to the stage door afterward, too, and Alice got to meet all the actors…” Paul picked at his fish while Bill talked, desperately avoiding eye contact. He wasn’t going to look at Bill’s eyes. His gorgeous brown eyes that caught the candlelight in the restaurant so beautifully and—

“You know, Alice talks about you. Asks why you never come over.” That snaps Paul out of his reverie. He prays that he isn’t blushing. “You should come with us next time.”

“I’m not going to see a musical with you, Bill.” Tonight was challenging that assertion. Because it was another excuse to see Bill outside of work. And maybe Paul was willing to admit that he wanted that to happen again. He was enjoying this date (despite the fact that he was going to _kill_ Emma later). He didn’t want it to end.

“Oh, well. Worth a shot, right?”

_You have no idea._

Bill had finished eating already, using his fork to gesture wildly in the air as he talked. His other hand was resting on the table. Paul could reach out and take it. He _wanted_ to reach out and take it.

So he did. And that shut Bill up really quickly.

“Paul?” he whispered.

“Just selling it, right?”

“Right… Right.”

And he picked back up on a rant about _Mamma Mia!_ Or at least that’s what Paul thought it was about. He was pretty sure, anyway. But he might’ve been just a bit distracted by Bill’s hand in his.

* * *

When Paul finally finished his food, he left a tip (Bill insisted on paying for the food) and they stepped out into the late evening chill together, not quite close enough to be anything more than friends. Bill checked his watch, sighed, and turned to Paul.

“Hey, um, I know you probably have plans for the rest of the night, but I took the bus here, and I don’t think they run this late…” Bill trailed off, a sheepish smile on his face.

“My car’s this way.” He gestured toward the back of the parking lot and they started walking.

“Thanks, Paul. I owe you.”

“You went on a date with me just because I got stood up. I’m pretty sure I’ll owe you for the next couple of _years_.”

Bill stopped abruptly, his smile faltering. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “Actually, um…” he started.

“Bill, you good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just, uh… our ‘date’ wasn’t all that bad. I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

Paul didn’t really process Bill’s words right away. Unfortunately, Bill clearly saw this as a rejection. He brushed past Paul, muttering a dejected “Sorry,” but before he could get far, Paul grabbed his wrist.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll, uh, find another way home. I don’t… you probably don’t want to—not after _that_ , anyway.” And he turned to leave again. But Paul didn’t let go. He took a breath and steeled himself.

“Would you like to go out with me? Again, I mean. For real this time?”

Bill blinked a few times, eyes wide. “What?”

Paul dropped Bill’s wrist. “I said, do you want to go out with me? For real?”

“Oh.” He paused, then his face lit up. “Oh! Wait, really?”

“Only if you want…”

“Yes! I mean, yeah, uh, sure! When? Soon? Not to rush you or anything, but—“

“Soon is fine. Soon is _great_ , actually.” Paul smiled. “After work Tuesday?”

“Sounds good.” Bill smiled, and Paul took his hand again. “Your hand is freezing, by the way.”

“Oh, shut up.” Paul fought a rising blush. “Your hand is really warm.” He considers telling him about how pretty his eyes are, too, but eventually he decides against it.

After all, that can wait for their next date.


	2. Second First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul had a date. A first date. Or a second date. He wasn't quite sure. But he was sure that he was about to royally screw it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW // None

Paul had a date. With Bill. He didn’t want to call it a first date. It wasn’t, not really. But it was their first _real_ date. Their first date with no ulterior motive, no saving face, no playing the part.

Paul had a date, he was nervous as hell, and Emma wouldn’t let him live it down.

“You literally already went on a date with him,” she said, grabbing his arm in a futile attempt to stop his pacing. It didn’t work. “What are you so worried about? It’s just coffee.”

“Yeah, just coffee with my best friend who saved me from a failed date—”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

“—Yeah, whatever, I still hate you for that. And now we’re on an actual date, and I really don’t want to screw this up…”

“You won’t.” She stood up and put her hands on his arms, stopping him. “He wants this. You want this. So it’s going to be fine. Now, if you don’t pick something to wear soon, you’re going to be late.”

Paul checked his watch—MacNamara would be proud—and swore quietly. “Shit, you’re right. Okay, okay… so what do I wear?”

Emma marched over to his closet and started rifling through his clothes, pulling out and putting back shirts seemingly at random. “Check the weather, will you?”

“Huh? Oh.” Paul pulled out his phone and checked his weather app. “Freezing. Fun.”

“Cold, okay… I can work with that…” she muttered, flicking through a few sweaters in the back. “Here.” She tossed him a red sweater. “Find a pair of jeans and go change. I’ll wait.”

He changed in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. He had to give Emma some credit, he didn’t look terrible. He didn’t look great, either, but that was on him. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to fix it into place. When he got back, Emma handed him a scarf and a pair of boots.

“Here, I stole these from my friend. You’ll look cute.” She laughed as Paul threw the scarf around his neck haphazardly and reached up to fix it. He pulled on the boots and grabbed his wallet.

“Wish me luck, I guess.”

Emma put a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need it. Have fun out there. And you better tell me how it goes after.”

“You really need to be less invested in my love life.”

“Nah, where’s the fun in that? Now, go! You’re gonna be late.” And she all but shoved him out the door.

* * *

The walk to the Starbucks sucked. There wasn’t any other way to put it. The wind cut through his clothes and froze him to the core. By the time he made it inside, he was shivering, his arms wrapped around himself in a vain attempt to warm up. He put in his order at the counter—a black coffee and a caramel frappe, because Bill could drink iced coffee during the ice age—and found a table tucked in the back to wait. He checked his watch again. Three minutes early. He let out a shaky breath. Early. He was early. He wasn’t late, he hadn’t messed up yet, it was fine.

The barista called his name, so he got up to grab their coffee. In the middle of dropping a few bucks in the tip jar, Paul heard the bell of the door chime. He turned around and saw Bill standing just inside the doorway, pulling his coat around himself tightly, hands buried in his pockets. He followed Paul back to the table silently and sat down with a smile.

“Hey.”

_‘Hey?’ Really? You’re going to give him brain rot._

“Hi. Uh, it’s cold out there, huh?”

“Yeah. Oh, uh…” Paul held out Bill’s coffee. “Here. I, uh, went ahead and ordered. I hope that’s okay.”

“Thanks.” Bill shrugged his coat off and hung it on the back of his chair. “So, uh…”

“Yeah.” Paul took a sip of his coffee to avoid talking. This was stupid. This was a mistake. Why did he think this would work? Bill probably didn’t even want to be here. He just asked out of pity.

“This is weird,” Bill mumbled with a weak smile.

“Sorry, I, uh… maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Oh, did you not…? Um, sorry, I guess. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. But you, uh, you didn’t have to say yes. When I asked. If you didn’t want to—”

“No! No, I do, it’s just… I’m not good at the whole dating thing. And I really don’t want to screw this up. I want this to go well so badly, but I have no clue how to do it. It’s my fault, sorry.”

Bill reached out and grabbed his hand. “I don’t want you to do anything different. I asked you out because I like you. You, not anyone else. Why can’t we just be ourselves?”

“Okay.” Be themselves. Could he do that? Did he know who he was? “Okay, I can do that.”

Bill squeezed his hand and smiled. Paul was grateful for the gesture. It was familiar, comfortable. “Hey, did you hear that Davidson is bringing in someone to fix the printer network?”

“No shit?”

“Yeah, he hired some bigshot tech team, they’re coming in over the weekend. So, there goes my excuse to see you at work, I guess.”

Paul looked away, trying to hide his blush. “You… that was just an excuse to come see me?”

“More or less, yeah.” Bill smiled sheepishly. “I think at some point Melissa caught on, but she never said anything. Actually, she’d sometimes ask me to go grab papers that ended up at your printer when she tried to print, too.”

Paul laughed. “Is Melissa really that observant, or are you just that obvious?”

“Hey, you can’t talk! Emma called me to bail you out for a reason.”

“Yeah, because you’re my only friend who's single, attracted to guys, and not an asshole. Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

“Yeah, right. Admit it, you had a thing for me for a _while,_ and she knew.” Bill laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his nose scrunching up. He looked adorable. Paul absentmindedly ran his thumb over Bill’s knuckles. Why the hell was he so worried before? He didn’t want this to ever end. He wasn’t going to let this end, not yet.

“So, uh, I know the plan was just to grab coffee, but do you want to come back to mine after? We could watch a movie or something.” 

_Yeah, real original. Good job, dumbass._

“That sounds great.” 

_Oh, thank god._

“Good. Great. Uh, wow…”

Bill stood up and put his coat back on. “You ready to go, then?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Paul grabbed his coffee and followed Bill outside. It was warmer than on the walk there, and while the wind still made him shiver, the sun hitting his skin felt nice. He looked over at Bill, who wandered down the sidewalk, looking at everything like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. He turned to look at Paul, and his eyes caught the light of the sun again, making them glow like pools of honey. Bill's face fell slightly. Paul must look like an idiot, staring at him with a goofy smile.

“You okay?” He sounded concerned. Paul shouldn’t be staring. Or maybe Bill thought it was bad staring. He didn’t want Bill to think that.

“Your eyes are so pretty.” Bill blinked in surprise. “I mean—!”

“Thanks.” He reached out to take Paul’s hand, then stopped and wrapped his arm around Paul’s waist instead. “Your place, then?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” They continued down the sidewalk toward his apartment, Bill pressed against his side. His phone buzzed, so he pulled it out and saw a message from Emma.

>> so…?

Heading back to mine <<

>> oh

>> OH

>> have fun ;)

He tucked his phone back into his pocket and put his arm around Bill’s shoulders. He’d explain it all to Emma—and probably kill her for that comment—later. Right now, he had a date to finish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to drop a comment/kudos if you enjoyed! <3
> 
> Tumblr: makethestorylast   
> Instagram: makethestorylast

**Author's Note:**

> Remember to drop a comment/kudos if you enjoyed! <3
> 
> Tumblr: makethestorylast  
> Instagram: makethestorylast


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